


Imagine...

by TheRoseKingofLegend (TheRoseKingOfLegend)



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Mr. Robot (TV), Night at the Museum (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Pacific (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: I did, I just wanted to be inclusive, Multi, There's probably some characters/fandoms not tagged, There's some sexy bits, all from second person pov sorry if that bothers you, have fun with this, mostly just day in the life stuff, not a lot, sorry - Freeform, there's a lot, these are all really short, these are not in any particular order, they are just written as I think of them, tried as hard as I could to be gender neutral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseKingOfLegend/pseuds/TheRoseKingofLegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine your favorite character from your favorite show, and now imagine them doing everyday things with you. This is what this is. Sorry if you're not into these fandoms. I love them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please send me suggestions. I want this to be about 200 stories long, and so far I have few. Also, if you see any inconsistencies, feel free to point them out to me, but nicely. I'll try and fix them. Thank you all for being so supportive of my crazy ideas. I love you.

Fandom: The Pacific  
Character: Merriell “Snafu” Shelton  
Prompt: “Fighting with Snafu about his obsession with knives”

You come home in a bad mood. You had a shitty day at work because your shitty boss was being a super bitch, and then your drive home was just as shitty. You grumble under your breath some fanciful death threats that may or may not be directed at Helen, the queen Bitch at the office. You know you hate your job, and so does everyone else, but you’re fresh out of college and can’t do much better, unless you want to become a prostitute, but gross. 

You notice right away, and yes, it pisses you off, that Snafu has left his knife collection spread all over the house again. He does this every week or so, and every time, he says he was just polishing them. But you wouldn’t put it past him to be murdering small animals, or big animals, or humans. You throw your stuff onto your bed in your room and stomp down the very short hallway in a huff. This is the last straw. 

“Snafu, I’m not fucking kidding this time. Put your knives away or I’ll use you as a pin cushion with them tonight.” You don’t even knock, you just fling his door open. He is sitting in his unmade bed shirtless. There is an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, and he is scrolling through something on his phone. His big eyes eventually make their way up to you and the shade of green catches you off guard. 

“Aw, they ain’t doin’ you no harm.” He says it languidly. His Louisiana drawl makes his speech slow, and it enrages you even more for some reason. 

“No. Not me, Snaf, but I swear to all that is holy they will hurt you if you don’t take them out of my fucking living room.” Your voice is getting louder, and you don’t like it, but it’s an unconscious response to the irritation that is Snafu. 

Snafu’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and for a second you think you’ve finally won, but then he lifts his chin defiantly. You stare at each other for a few long, painful seconds before you throw your hands up in the air and spin around. 

“Fine! Fuck you too, Merriell!” You’re yelling now. You use his real name and it tastes absurd rolling off your tongue. You know he hates it, and maybe that’s why you did it, but at the moment, you’re in the process of going insane so you don’t really care. You hear him yell something, probably profane, back at you before you slam your own door shut and flop onto your bed. “Why am I friends with him?” You ponder this as your body relaxes and you drift into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Elliot, and I love his character, but he's sooooo hard for me to write. Sorry if this doesn't seem accurate to the actual character, I tried.

Fandom: Mr. Robot  
Character: Elliot Alderson  
Prompt: “Comforting Elliot when you see him crying”

You can hear him before you even touch the door. Maybe it’s because he’s being unusually loud, maybe it’s because he wants you to hear him, or maybe it’s because this is exactly what you have trained yourself to listen for whenever you approach him. 

You hesitate before sliding the key into the lock. Elliot is crying, that is for sure. You can hear through the door his honestly pathetic whimpers and his little gasps of breath. He is also banging his head on his dresser, and you hear the occasional thunk of skull on wood. You wonder if you should just sit outside and wait for him to settle down on his own. But your heart gets the better of you and you shove the key in. You swing the door open, making it clear that you know what’s going on. You throw your bag and your coat onto the couch and then stomp over to the quivering puddle of tears wedged between the wall and the dresser. 

“Elliot, it’s okay. Whatever it is that your brain is telling you is a goddamn lie.” You use harsh words but a soft tone, and he looks at you with his huge round eyes. You want so badly to just scoop him up into your arms and hug the sad out of him, but you know he’d probably punch you. 

Elliot doesn’t speak, which is kind of what you figured, but he does let you sit close enough that your knees touch his. You don’t say anything more either, you just watch him unravel in front of you. There’s a lot of things that you could say, but really, what’s the point? Elliot won’t listen, and you’d just end up getting frustrated that you wasted the breath. 

It takes a whole fifteen minutes for Elliot to calm down. When he’s done crying, he uses the ratty sleeves of the beat up old hoodie he always wears to wipe his face. You still don’t say anything. You don’t want to scare him away. 

“I’m okay.” It’s two words, and they’re the most unsatisfying you’ve ever heard in your life. 

“Yeah, I know.” Your response is equally as irritating. You stand up and offer your hand to Elliot. He stares at it for the longest second of your life, but then finally takes it and lets you pull him up. He avoids eye contact, an Olympic sport for him, and rubs both hands over his dark curls. 

But then he hugs you, and although it is brief, it warms you up from the inside out. You may not have been able to talk Elliot down, because words with him are useless, but just the fact that you were there for him when he needed you most makes you feel good. You both sit on the couch and Elliot turns on the TV, and you smile, because you’re pressed into his side and he’s not pushing you away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are much easier for me to figure out. Please let me know if you see any grammar mistakes. I like to fix them.

Fandom: Supernatural  
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester  
Prompt: “Trying to watch a horror movie with Sam and Dean”

You sit down on the couch between your favorite hunters and smile. This is a rare chill moment with them both, and you’re going to enjoy it. You grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl in your lap and watch as Dean sets a beer down on the coffee table for you. Sam walks over the TV/DVD player setup and pops in the movie, something that you’ve been wanting to watch for ages. 

“You said this was a horror movie? We’ll see about that.” Dean leans back, throws his arm over the back of the couch, and props his socked feet up on the coffee table. Sam gave him a scolding look and sat on your other side. His gigantic form barely fit, but you weren’t shy. 

It didn’t take long for Dean to be ruining the movie for you. 

“Aw, come on. That’s not even how a real demon works, unless he’s possessing the pussy of a boyfriend.” Dean’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was distracting. 

“Dean, shut up and enjoy the movie.” Sam hissed across you. You don’t say anything, just shove more popcorn in your face. 

“I’m just saying, Sammy, if we were there, that demon wouldn’t stand a chance.” Dean takes a swig from his beer with a triumphant look on his face. You sigh, and decide that maybe this wasn’t a good movie choice. 

“But think about it, Dean. An invisible demon? That would be terrifying, and even you would be a little scared.” Sam was taunting him now, and this wasn’t what you wanted. You prepared yourself to stand and walk away. Their bickering never did you any good and you really just wanted to escape. 

“Give me five minutes with this thing, then see who’s scared!” Dean cried. He sat forward and leaned over you slightly. You huffed out loud and both men looked at you. You pushed Dean out of your way and stood. You gave both of them long, disappointed looks, something you’re very good at, and then started walking away. 

“Hold on, the movie’s not over!” Dean called to you. 

“It is. Next time, we’re watching Finding Nemo.” You say it with finality and then stomp into your own room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write, because I love the gentle side of Daryl so much. He's a big softy at heart.

Fandom: The Walking Dead  
Character: Daryl Dixon  
Prompt: “Sitting silently, watching the stars with Daryl”

You were never uncomfortable with silence. You always figured that it was pointless to fill up empty space with even emptier words. That’s why you and Daryl got along so well. You two could sit or walk for hours without saying a single word, and yet, you felt closest to him out of everyone you’d ever met. 

There was one night that you remember in particular. It was just after you had found the prison, and everyone was staying in the yard. You looked up to see Daryl sitting on top of the bus, his head tilted up. You stood and made your way over, climbing up and sitting with him. He glanced at you, but said nothing. 

You leaned back on your hands and looked up at the clear night sky. The stars seemed to be sparking especially bright tonight. Maybe they were as happy as you were to be safe and surrounded by family. You smile to yourself and think about everyone that is important to you. Daryl, obviously. But also Rick, and Carl, and Lori. Carol is annoying, but she’s been through a lot. The rest of them are important as well, but it’s Daryl who you get stuck thinking about. 

He’s such a gruff man, ready and willing to snap at a second’s notice. He’s almost feral, like a wild animal trapped inside the body of a hunter. You think back to all the times Daryl scared the shit out of you, while simultaneously saving your life. But he also had a gentle side. That became evident pretty fast. When he wasn’t angry, which was rare, he was soft-spoken and reasonable. 

Daryl Dixon was an enigma.

You turned your head so you could stare not-so-discreetly at the man next to you. He took notice, and you know that from the way he shifts around, uncomfortable in his own skin. But you didn’t stop, because why should you? You wanted to memorize every little detail. 

Eventually Daryl met your gaze, and you smiled. His face was still sullen, but not angry. You stared at each other for what felt like years, and then he laid on his back. He looked back up at the sky, a heavy breath making his chest rise and fall. You laid back with him, comforted in the fact that you were able to stay completely silent and yet, still had an intimate moment with the hunter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, Snafu is kind of hard for me to write as well. He's kind of a psychopath, but also kind of sweet? I don't know. I hope this comes across as accurate. Let me know if it doesn't, please!

Fandom: The Pacific  
Character: Merriell “Snafu” Shelton  
Prompt: “Walking in on Snafu jerking off” 

You can’t say that it really surprised you when you walked into the house and the first sight that met your eyes was Snafu, sitting naked on the couch, dick in hand. 

It didn’t necessarily happen often, but probably more than was technically allowed for roommates. Snafu made it painfully clear in the year that you had lived together that he was a chronic masturbator, and that he was going to do it any where he goddamn pleased. 

So, when you opened the door and was gifted with the sight of Snafu pleasuring himself, you didn’t scream or throw a fit. You simply made yourself known. You slam the front door shut and then bang around when taking your shoes off. When you face him again, he’s looking at you, but his hand never stops. 

“Really? In the living room? In the middle of the day?” You ask, even though you already know his answer. 

“Why not?” His voice is low and it makes you shiver. 

“The curtain is open. And this is a shared space.” You start to walk away, towards the kitchen. But then you think about Snafu naked and decide you’re not hungry. 

“Wanna know what I was thinkin’ abou’?” The thick Louisiana accent makes his speech slow, and it irritates you at this particular moment.

“Not really.” You don’t dare look at him right now. The sounds coming from him are lewd and frankly, it’s making you a little hot. 

“You, boo. I was thinkin’ abou’ you.” 

This statement gives you pause. You stop walking and he chuckles, deep in his chest. You honestly can’t tell if he’s fucking with you or not. You wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Yeah, sure. Just make sure you disinfect the couch when you’re done.” You walk into your room and shut the door. You take a second to just stand there, but then you collapse onto your bed and scream into the pillow. Why does Snafu have to be so fucking crazy and sexy?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lot like Stiles, which is to say I'm a sarcastic ball of fun. This is meant to be kind of shippy, but not really. I don't know. Enjoy.

Fandom: Teen Wolf  
Character: Stiles Stilinski  
Prompt: “Stiles taking care of you when you’re sick”

You hate being sick more than anything in the entire universe. With the blocked sinuses, the sore throat, the coughing, he general yuck, you wonder why more people don’t just off themselves. You briefly consider it, just to have some relief, but it’s too much work. So you call Stiles instead. 

“I just need you to bring me some medicine and some soup or something. I’m not dying, I have the flu or a cold or something.” Your voice sounds horrific, and it’s hard to talk, much less breathe. 

“Got it. I’ll be over in a jiffy.” He hangs up the phone and you go back to curling up on your bed, feeling sorry for yourself and watching Family Guy. 

Stiles doesn’t knock, he just walks right into the house. You wait for him to find you, and when he does, you look up at him. And you roll your eyes. He’s wearing the equivalent to a hazmat suit. He has on some protective goggles, one of those paper mask things, and elbow high rubber gloves. He’s holding a plastic bag with medicine and a container of what looks like canned soup. 

“That’s not funny.” You’re whining, but he’s making you feel bad.

“I don’t want to get sick. It’s just a few precautions.” He walks over and sets the bag down on your bed. Then he clears some space on your desk and sets the container down. “Now, shall I feed you?” 

“No, you jerk. I’m not a baby.” You sit up and then stand. You feel a little wobbly, but you’re okay. You take the spoon from his gloved hand and sit at your desk. It’s a little weird having him stand over you, watching you eat, but the soup is hot and it soothes your throat so you don’t really care. 

“Do you need anything else? A sponge bath maybe?” Stiles pulls the mask off and the grin splitting his face makes you angry. 

“You perv. No. Go away now.” You turn back to the gloriously tasteless liquid and he laughs. You hear him start to leave. “Thank you, Stiles.” He doesn’t say anything back, he just goes. You feel a little better, but still like total shit.


End file.
